The Stranger
by Xyverz
Summary: Seventy years have passed since Harry defeated Voldemort. Has time been kind?


DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, that's JK Rowling's creation. 

**Plot Bunny  
The Stranger**

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Just inside a dark and dusty alleyway in down town London, sitting at the corner of a red brick building sat a man in rags who watched the crowd as they walked by. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance. He wore an old woollen cap that had once been full of colour, but had been greyed by years of use. His overcoat was also woollen and dark, sporting brown, black, and grey stains of dirt, oil, and other substances unknown. His pants were once black but now bore more dirt than a five-year-old could possibly find in his back yard. The man's shoes were scuffed and worn, but surprisingly still held together, as if by magic.

He smiled as he watched the passers by. He did not hold out a collection cup, nor did he spout off nonsense to an imaginary opponent or tormentor. His eyes were clear but his eyebrows were bushy and put the orbs in shadow. His white beard was, for the most part, clean but shaggy. He was not an unfriendly man, but folks stayed away from him as if he carried the plague. Well, maybe it was not that severe but they made no effort to stray from the paths their feet had for them.

Folks who did recognise him saw him as the strange, seemingly mentally unbalanced person who spoke of things that should not exist; stories of fantasy and fiction, created by a mind driven to insanity by years that had not been kind. They stole quick glances and kept on going, not eager to be drawn into another fantastic discussion.

You would never have known that the man had raised a family and watched them all turn their backs on him. His grandchildren knew naught of him and had never heard the tales of his life. In fact, it seemed that history had left him out completely.

His children did their best to ignore him whenever they saw him. They had their own reasons for shunning him, and for that he forgave them. Just because they'd turned their backs on him didn't mean he had done the same for them. He'd been through too much in his lifetime to do so.

He watched over his grandchildren often, waiting for the one day when they would learn of the magical world he once lived in. He'd seen it in all four of them; the accidental magic wizarding children often exhibit in times of great fear or extreme happiness. They wrote it off as strange miracles, but he knew better. The oldest one would be turning eleven in a few short weeks. He fully intended to be there when it happened. Maybe he'd wait until her parents had calmed down. That was a story for another time.

In some ways the failure of society to acknowledge his feats angered him for it would only lead to the inevitable repetition of history. They had known seventy years of peace since that day. He was briefly touted as the saviour of the world, but when the parties ended and the lights came up, he was pushed aside; discarded like yesterday's news, thrown out like dirty rag that could no longer clean up their messes. He was not needed any more. The world had been saved and now it was time for them to carry on living as if it had never fallen apart in the first place.

The man frowned briefly as he remembered the shock of rejection and the pain of leaving all he knew behind. He fled to the muggle world as the final safe haven. He met his wife there and they had three beautiful children. In this world he was known as 'Father', 'Husband', and 'Friend'. Nobody knew him as the saviour of the world, nobody cared that he had been destined to play the pivotal role in the battle of Good Versus Evil. They had no prejudices and took him for who he was.

His life had been full and held meaning to him. Unfortunately fate caught up with him.

Twenty years ago his youngest son and wife were killed in a horrific incident. Not even his magic was able to save them. His remaining two children, grown and gone from home had come to mourn their loss with him and offer him support. They'd shown him the love of family he'd always strived for. He was grateful.

Shortly after that they'd mysteriously found out the truth behind their loss. Not only had they discovered their father's mysterious past, but they were told that their mother and brother were innocent bystanders in an attack on him. They had found out that the once the saviour of the wizarding world was unable to protect his family from his aggressors.

Like many others in his past, they blamed him for things beyond his control.

Eventually, he stopped caring. He let things slide and faded from view. It was only when he no longer had anything that he was finally able to accept his loss and live his life.

Homelessness was an enlightenment for him.

He began to care for his family again, albeit behind the scenes. He was there when his grandchildren were born. He watched as their parents took them to parks, played with them, walked them to school. He observed their likes and dislikes. He protected them from danger. He even protected the children who shut him out.

True, from time to time he missed his two best friends, but they were long gone. Their deaths at the hands of his enemy were but a drop in the pond. He had finally made his peace with their memories shortly after becoming homeless. These last fifteen years hadn't always been easy, but it had given him the time he needed to finally let his deep wounds heal. He thought about the times they'd had together and smiled. One day he would be with them again.

The old man sat in his alley and watched the passers-by as they did the errands life called on them to make. He smiled knowing that in a few short weeks he would be again united with his family. To any one who saw him, he was the poor, homeless old man who sat against this same wall every day and watched the world go by.

_fin._

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End file.
